The completion of the space elevator did not fill Steve with joy. Instead, it made him more keenly aware of the true threat he faced.
In the dead of night, reviewing global geologic and energy anomaly reports secretly collected by JPL, one region deep in the South American rainforest—always eerily "quiet"—pricked his heart like a needle.
The monster that attacks planets. The planetary immune system. The will of this planet, summoned from the far future and from the deep universe—the strongest alien lifeform ever called to deal with the apocalypse: [ORT].
Steve understood this terror better than any magi. It is not evil, merely a "machine" following ancient protocols. When planetary civilization is deemed "too prosperous" and a critical threshold of "dead silence" is reached, it awakens and carries out its sole directive: surface cleansing.
And the massive technological explosion he had triggered was undoubtedly accelerating this turning point.
If the cheap energy, global communications, and efficient logistics brought by the space elevator became fully integrated into daily life, humanity's living standards could leap a century in just ten years—but that would be like sounding a horn to awaken the sleeping giant. It would be obvious suicide.
He must apply brakes.
He made a bewildering decision. At the Prometheus Project's celebration, braving enormous pressure from the world's media, governments, and citizens, he publicly rejected the long-awaited "manned Mars landing" plan.
"Exploring Mars is wonderful, but not now," he said coolly at the press conference. "Setting foot on another planet without solving humanity's sustainability issues would only repeat our mistakes elsewhere. The next step is not outward, but inward—to integrate living space in low Earth orbit."
These words earned him infamy as "conservative" and "lacking vision," but he didn't care. His real plan was far crazier—and more 'evil'—than going to Mars.
He proposed a new plan, [Project Terra Sancta], at a closed meeting of the newly reorganized UN Space Development Council, led by the US, Russia, and Central Europe's four permanent members.
His proposal was logical and precisely captured the dark side of human nature. He explained to the world's most powerful men that Earth's ecological environment was overwhelmed, and humanity's overexploitation was destroying our only home.
He proposed making Earth itself a "sacred nature reserve," gradually shutting down over 90% of heavy industry on the surface within 50 years, allowing forests, oceans, and the atmosphere to self-repair. Earth would return to its idyllic natural state, becoming the most luxurious "resort park" for a select few elites.
But what about the billions deprived of industrial livelihoods? The answer lay in the heavens.
He pointed to the ultimate upgrade of the giant O'Neill Cylinder—shown on the holographic screen behind him—naming it the [SIDE Colony]. He argued that building these vast space cities at the Lagrange points, using the cheap capacity of the space elevator, would cost far less than trying to govern the Earth's environment—and could solve the problem in one go.
The UN could lead an unprecedented mass migration, relocating "redundant" and "low-value" populations to the SIDE colonies, where they would perform "hard" labor: asteroid mining, space farming, industrial manufacturing, providing stable resources and services to the "elites" remaining on Earth.
This would not only solve the environmental crisis but also maximize the use of cheap labor and create new sources of wealth by mining infinite minerals in space.
The plan, as tempting as the apple in Eden, struck the desire for privilege at the heart of every power-holder present. It was as if they saw the future—lying on Hawaiian beaches, enjoying pure sun and air, while the "untouchables" who once crowded cities toiled in tin cans tens of thousands of kilometers away.
It was a perfect scheme to extend class stratification to a cosmic scale. They cared nothing for "environmental protection"—only for "Earth monopoly" and their "space labors."
After months of fierce struggle, bargaining, and backroom deals, the sugar-coated poison passed the UN General Assembly by a landslide.
His true purpose was completely hidden: by moving humanity en masse to space, he could "cool" Earth, minimize the "civilization activity index," and indefinitely postpone ORT's awakening. He was saving the world—but in a dystopian way.
…
Another five years passed. The world changed dramatically on the path he paved.
Earth in the year 2000 presented a strange sight: the space industry was booming as never before, trillions of dollars flooded in, and related stocks became the hottest on Wall Street. At the same time, mass anti-migration protests erupted worldwide. Countless people took to the streets against the "Project Terra Sancta" that swept them away like garbage. But under the iron suppression of the state apparatus, all resistance turned to weakness.
The first migrations began—mainly the poor from the third world, the unemployed, and the homeless from developed nations. They were semi-forcibly sent up the space elevator, leaving their homelands to begin a life in space.
As chief architect of all this, Steve had already retired from the stage. His name rarely appeared in the media anymore. Instead, the Orbital Development Group (ODG), a giant multinational, monopolized almost all construction and operation related to the SIDE colonies—and he was the sole dominant figure behind it, in anonymity.
…
At 39, with wind and frost just beginning to touch his temples, Steve spent most of his time in his quiet office at the very top of Asteria Station, watching the world be remade by his own hands.
On the last night of the millennium, 23:55 UTC, he took his shuttle to the L5 Lagrange point between Earth and the Moon, where the first true space city in human history had just been built—SIDE-1 "Olympus." Thirty kilometers long and six kilometers in diameter, it was a huge cylinder.
He stood at the axis of the central observation tower, surrounded by emptiness. Through the 360-degree panoramic viewport, he saw the vast artificial landscape on the cylinder's inner wall: rivers, forests, prototype cities—not yet illuminated.
"Doctor, 'Olympus' will begin the first artificial day-night system test at UTC midnight. Five minutes to countdown," came the ground control's voice in his headset.
He did not reply, just waited quietly.
At the stroke of midnight, a bright light shone from one end of the cylinder—it was an artificial sun. The light spread along the inner wall, illuminating mountains, rivers, and well-planned city blocks. Under pseudo-gravity from centrifugal force, artificial waterfalls cascaded from "mountain peaks," painting beautiful rainbows in the "sky."
It was a miracle—a human-made wonder rivaling the power of gods.
But Steve felt no joy, only a cold emptiness. Staring at this beautiful new world, he seemed to see the fates of countless future space dwellers. To save the majority, new injustices and sins had been created by his own hand. He gazed at the artificial light, feeling himself fall step by step into the abyss.
…